


Wolfsbane

by holo_hedgehog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (maybe), Bravery, Canon Compliant, Friendship, M/M, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), POV Remus Lupin, advanced potion-making, tortured pining, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24593902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holo_hedgehog/pseuds/holo_hedgehog
Summary: Our story begins at Christmas, with our friends reeling from Arthur's near-death experience at the Department of Mysteries. While the kids at Hogwarts rebel under Dolores Umbridge's reign of terror, the Order of the Phoenix keeps watch over the weapon that Voldemort wants so dearly, and Dumbledore is off doing whatever Dumbledore does, Sirius and Remus are often forgotten. These are the adventures (or non-adventures) they get up to at Headquarters.Set during OOtP, hopefully canon-compliant.Inspired by fox_diaz's The Making of the Map, hopefully compliant with her canon as well. And true to her characters <3
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Firewhiskey and Eggnog

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Making of the Map](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206621) by [fox_diaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fox_diaz/pseuds/fox_diaz). 



Remus came in behind the Weasleys, knowing that more likely than not Fred or George would let the door slam and wake up Mrs. Black. While the kids galumphed up and down stairs, opening trunks and slamming wardrobes as they settled in to get some much-needed sleep, Remus trod as lightly as possible. He felt the familiar squeeze of anxiety in his stomach as he imagined seeing Sirius’s face for the first time in weeks. Sirius’s new face, hollowed and thin and haunted after twelve years in Azkaban, that still lit up when he saw Remus come through the door. Sirius, clapping him on the back before recoiling as if he’d just touched a hot stove. Sirius, passed out drunk on the couch. Sirius, passed out drunk at the kitchen table. Sirius.

Still trying to keep quiet, Remus opened the kitchen door and peered inside, afraid of what he might see. On the table was a half-empty bottle, next to an ornate silver goblet. Remus picked up the goblet to read the familiar inscription, “ _Toujours pur,_ ” the fumes from the leftover firewhiskey already burning his eyes and causing them to water.

_“Ugh, it’s such a drag that James doesn’t drink during Quidditch season! James is such a fun drunk – last summer when we went to the south of France with his mum and dad, he got so pissed one night he took off all his clothes and waded straight into the sea…”_

_“Sounds dangerous,” said Remus, trying to banish the mental picture of Padfoot and Prongs frolicking naked in the ocean and collapsing on the beach together, laughing…_

_“Yeah, well, now I’m stuck getting drunk with a_ prefect _in the world’s most depressing bar,” said Sirius._

_“Shhh!” said Remus, looking around for Aberforth, the world’s grumpiest barman. “What if he hears you?”_

_“Ah, Abe knows his place is depressing, it’s a carefully cultivated_ ambience _,” said Sirius, affecting a French accent. “And I mean, if I have to spend the day in Hogsmeade with my second-best mate I’d rather be here than Madam Puddifoot’s tea room.”_

_Abe slammed down two filthy glasses in front of them and stalked off before he could hear Remus’s muttered, “Thank you.”_

_“Aberforth Dumbledore’s finest firewhiskey! Brewed right here on the Hogsmeade premises!” announced Sirius, shooting it back as if he’d done it a thousand times before – which he probably had._

_“Smells like rubbing alcohol,” said Remus, sniffing suspiciously, his eyes watering._

_“That’s how you know it works!” said Sirius, “Come on, Moony, it’ll pink your cheeks and put a swagger in your step!”_

_Remus blushed, and copied Sirius. A moment later he emerged, sputtering, having spilled most of the double shot down his robes. Aberforth looked up from behind the bar and glared at him. Abashed, Remus frantically looked around for napkins, but Sirius was already there, patting down the front of Remus’s robes. “Get a grip, Moony,” he said, “You’re an embarrassment to yourself. Actually, no, you’re an embarrassment to_ me _.”_

_“Get out from under the table!” hissed Remus, as Sirius was now approaching his lap with the napkins._

_“No, really, I’m afraid to be seen with you!”_

_Remus looked around the still-deserted bar, scanning for familiar faces. His eyes only found Aberforth. “Need another round, gentlemen?”_

Moony stared at the ugly goblet. One in the afternoon was really far too early to be drinking. But if it was good enough for Sirius…

He took a sip, allowing the bitterness to settle on his tongue. Remembering the smell of firewhiskey on Sirus’s breath, the taste of firewhiskey on Sirius's lips. His eyes still burning, he put the goblet down and resumed his search.

“Sirius?” he called tentatively, opening the door to one of the sitting rooms where the Order’s last meeting had been held. He called again, as he opened all the doors on the ground floor, finally yelling “SIRIUS?”

“WEREWOLVES AND MUDBLOODS AND BLOOD TRAITORS, DRINKING FROM OUR SILVER, SLEEPING IN OUR BEDS, INVADING OUR STRONGHOLD!” Mrs. Black shrieked. Remus rushed to close the curtain before she could wake the kids. But Sirius had rushed down the stairs – he had flushed him out of wherever he was hiding.

“What are you doing, Lupin? You’re going to wake up the whole house! I could hear you all the way from up in Buckbeak’s room!” So that’s where Sirius had been.

“Buckbeak has his own room?” said Remus.

“Yes, of course, he likes his privacy,” said Sirius. “And he was halfway through lunch when you started shouting.”

Sirius turned and started climbing back up the stairs, swinging his bucket of what appeared to be dead rats. He knocked politely and waited a second before entering the room. Remus caught the door before it closed and looked Buckbeak straight in the eye before bowing deeply. The hippogriff surveyed him for a second before bowing in return, then turned to Sirius, who curtseyed exaggeratedly, catching Remus’s eye. Without waiting for Buckbeak’s return bow, Sirius started tossing rats for Buckbeak to catch. Remus felt some of his anxiety dissipate – Sirius still couldn’t resist trying to make him laugh.

“So,” said Sirius, “How’s my cousin Dora doing?”

“You know I wouldn’t know, you know it’s not like that between us.”

“Well, apparently, she doesn’t know that. Molly said –”

“Molly likes to play Happy Families.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sirius relented. A moment later, “How has it been with the werewolves?”

“Wait— who who said I— Dumbledore didn’t want me to—”

“Dumbledore doesn’t want anyone to tell anyone else anything they don’t have to.”

“Yeah.”

“I guessed. Molly said you had been undercover, and I have excellent powers of deduction.”

Remus groaned internally. This had been one of Sirius’s catchphrases at Hogwarts, “I have excellent powers of deduction.” He’d been such a pretentious wanker. James could usually be counted upon to flip him the bird and say, “Deduce this.” It had eventually evolved into, “I have excellent powers of seduction,” but that was a bit later. They’d all been _such_ wankers.

Biting back his schoolboy retort, Remus said, “It’s been okay.”

Sirius took out his wand and bewitched the next rats to skitter around the room and zig-zag through the air, presenting more of a challenge for Buckbeak to snatch with his beak or his talons. Seeing Remus’s nauseated face, Sirius explained, “He’s got to keep his reflexes sharp! Else where will he be when we get out of this hell-hole and he can hunt for his own food again?”

Remus said nothing but ducked as a flying dead rat headed straight for his face.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to know, how common is it for a werewolf to be gay? Most werewolves aren’t really the wife and kids and white picket fence type, I’m guessing…” said Sirius.

Remus flinched – it wasn’t like the old Sirius to use phrases like “most werewolves.”

“D’you mean, what percentage of werewolves would self-identify as gay on a survey? Because human sexuality –”

“Is a spectrum, I know, and labels are only important if we want to give them importance, I was present at all three of your coming out parties-cum-lectures, if you’ll remember –”

“Actually, I prefer to think of it as a _space_ not a _spectrum_ –”

“Oh, shut up, you know what I’m asking. Have any of them tried to _proposition_ you?”

Remus flushed. “Yep, that’s what I’ve been doing, it’s just been nightly orgies with me and Fenrir and fifty of our closest friends –”

“That’s not what I meant --”

“Listen, you don’t know what it’s like out there! You think that I and the others are just going on adventures having a good time? Look at what happened to Sturgis – look at what happened to _Arthur!_ ”

“I _don’t know what it’s like out there?_ Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been fighting in a war since the age of 17 and, oh yeah, spent the last 15 years either in prison for a crime I didn’t commit or as the most wanted man in all of Britain, but please, tell me more about what it’s like to face hardships, and danger!” He dropped the rat bucket with a clang.

“It’s harder this time, Padfoot,” said Remus quietly. But Sirius had already slammed the door behind him, leaving Remus alone to bewitch the rest of the rats.

Remus arrived at the breakfast table the next morning prepared to face one of Sirius’s blacker moods. At Molly’s urging, he had agreed to stay at Grimmauld Place until at least after Christmas. Now he was beginning to have second thoughts, his stomach twisting as he imagined Sirius taking a seat at the other end of the table and shooting him one of his trademarked Withering Glares. But when Sirius finally did come down to breakfast, he pulled up a chair right next to Remus, brushing his shoulder as he accepted the platter of kippers being passed around the table. Sirius beamed around at everyone throughout the meal, not joining in any of the conversations, but humming snippets of Christmas carols to himself.

“Why are you so happy this morning?” Remus asked as they cleared the table together.

“Why shouldn’t I be happy, Remus? Arthur’s going to make a full recovery, my godson is home to stay with me for two whole weeks, and,” he raised his voice so that Molly could hear him, “I just had the most _amazing_ breakfast prepared for me by this incredibly attractive witch I know –”

“Will you just shut it and get a move on?” shouted Molly from the kitchen. “The sooner you lot sort out the breakfast things the sooner I can go see my husband.”

Sirius shrugged. “You going with them to St. Mungo’s today, Moony?” he asked.

“No, er, that is. I thought I’d just let the others go and see if there’s any need of me here.” Remus said stiffly. He didn’t see how Sirius could just turn it on and off, how yesterday he could be a total prick and today, just, call him “Moony” like that.

“You know there’s always need of you here,” said Sirius, raising his eyebrows.

When everyone had left for St. Mungo’s, Remus started in. “I want to talk to you, Sirius.”

“Okay, sure, what do you want to talk about?” Sirius asked. Remus hadn’t expected this response, but then, Remus could never predict Sirius when he was in a good mood like this.

“Um. Er. Well, for starters, I felt that how you lashed out at me yesterday was inappropriate and I think maybe you were deflecting your anger at the situation –”

“Moony, have you been reading those Muggle self-help books again? Cuz this sounds like some _Road Less Traveled_ -level bullshit.”

“You’ve read _The Road Less Traveled?_ ” said Remus, caught off guard.

“No, Moony, of course not, who do you think I am? But you have, and you’ve memorized it, just so that you could come here and spout off to me about how I’m _deflecting_ in just such situations as these.”

“See, this right here, is the _textbook_ definition of deflection–”

“Yes, Professor Lupin, let me just cross-reference that seminal _textbook_ , _Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus_ …hey, Moony, where do you think werewolves are from?”

Remus was distracted. “I don’t think I get my own planet.”

“You’d like one, though, wouldn’t you? A Moony planet all to yourself?” Sirius was trying to make him laugh again.

Remus shuddered. “You mean for me and fifty of my closest werewolf friends? I’d rather not. Put me on Mars, with all the other men!”

“Yeah, you’d like that, you dirty bastard,” said Sirius.

“No, I’m just saying, I’m a man! I’m just as much a man as you are!” said Remus.

“Damn right you are,” said Sirius, smirking again.

After a few more circular conversations like this, Remus knew there was nothing to be done. Sirius in this mood was like India rubber – no matter what the topic, he’d bounce off it.

“Let’s have eggnog, Moony!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“The last time I looked in your fridge there was _literally_ just a moldy tomato –”

“Then let’s go to the store! I hear they have items there that can be purchased for, what’s it called, money!”

“You want me to go to the corner store for you to get eggnog? We should really talk about your alcohol consumption, listen, I’ve been worried…”

“It’s _Christmas_ , Moony. There is _literally_ no Christmas without eggnog. _Literally.”_

“Okay, okay. I will try to scrounge up some _Muggle clothes_ and change into what I imagine to be an appropriate _Muggle outfit_ and then try to find some _Muggle money_ equivalent to, what, ten sickles? Ten galleons? Fuck if I know, and then I will walk down to the corner shop and explain to the man that I have no idea what goes in egg nog but could he please assemble the ingredients and assist me to make change and ignore the fact that I’m probably dressed like a bag lady from the 50s?”

“I wasn’t really listening but that sounds great, Moony – can I come?”

In the end, Remus felt reasonably confident that his and Sirius’s illicit trip to the corner shop hadn’t compromised Order operations or the International Statute of Secrecy. What Molly scathingly referred to as Arthur’s “dress-up closet” had supplied trousers and a bright yellow cardigan that was now entirely covered in black dog hair. Sure, Sirius had drawn some glances when he had jumped too enthusiastically into a filthy snowdrift and flung grey chunks of ice and snow onto a few passersby, but that had been adorable. The rest of the evening had been spent arguing about the proper bourbon to nog ratio – Sirius insisted that it was two to one – and then, of course, getting drunk. Remus hated himself for this – he knew he was the worst kind of enabler – but recently, this was the only way to make Sirius talk, properly talk.

“Full moon coming up soon,” said Sirius.

“Thanks, I know,” said Remus. “Believe it or not, I have the lunar calendar pretty much memorized.”

“That’s been going okay then, lately?” said Sirius awkwardly. “Snivellus still making you that potion?”

Remus looked away. “Severus has been busy, I think, what with teaching and the Order and all.”

“What?! But this is important, this is a priority! Is Snape out of his fucking mind?! Let me have a word with him, next time he shows his face here I’ll –"

“No, better drop it, Sirius.”

“But this is fucking mental! Have you talked to Dumbledore? I’m sure if you talked to Dumbledore, he would _make_ Snape make you the potion –”

“It has been deemed non-essential for the war effort.” Remus’s tone was expressionless. “Dumbledore and Severus have more important things on their minds, it’s not a priority to make my life more comfortable –”

“ _More comfortable?_ More COMFORTABLE? Do they have any IDEA what you go through every month?”

“No, they haven’t any idea,” said Remus. “Sometimes even I don’t have an idea, I’ll wake up when the moon wanes and it’s as if I was black-out drunk for three days.”

“Well, I have an idea,” said Sirius darkly.

“You know, you may be the only person alive who does.”

They fell silent for a moment, the loss of James palpable between them. Since Sirius had been back in London, it was as if the old wound had re-opened. Being together like this, Remus often felt as if he were missing something, waiting for someone to join them, wondering why they were taking so long. Then he would remember.

“Hey, why does Snape have to brew the potion? Why can’t someone else?” said Sirius

“Well, I couldn’t do it myself. If you miss a step or stir one time too many, it can be fatal. I doubt there more than a handful of potioneers alive right now who could consistently get it right.”

“Hmm. I bet Lily could have done it.” Whenever the ghost of James had entered the room, Lily wasn’t far behind. “She was always top in potions, or at least second behind Snivellus.”

“Yeah. But even if she were here, the ingredients are so hard to come by. And even if we had a source, I doubt I could afford them.” The last phrase was mumbled – he had never quite known how to talk to Sirius about money, when he had grown up with nothing and Sirius had grown up with the best of everything.

“I could, though,” said Sirius, barreling right through the awkward moment as he usually did. “The same old Moony, you always have a million reasons why something can’t be done.”

“It _can’t_ be done, though. I told you, Severus is the only one who could make it.”

Sirius looked affronted. “You know what? I refuse to accept that. You’re telling me that _Snivellus_ can do something that I couldn’t do?”

“Snape is a once in a generation potioneer –“

“Snape is former fascist and a current moron. I, on the other hand, am Sirius Black, and I, Sirius Black, am going to brew you the wolfsbane potion.”

Remus looked up at Sirius in disbelief. “You, Sirius Black, are going to kill me.”


	2. Navidad

Remus woke the next morning half-hoping that Sirius would have forgotten his promise from the night before. He knew that Sirius was prone to such declarations when he was bored, or drunk, and Sirius had been bored and drunk quite a lot recently. Usually by the next morning he would’ve completely forgotten the hare-brained scheme that he had cooked up the night before, but other times he’d have doubled down and would insist that it was still a _great_ idea to brew Polyjuice Potion, transform into Regulus, and purposely fail all his exams for him and fall off his broom during the Quidditch final. It was always so difficult to tell with Sirius.

This time was no exception. Sirius was still as cheerful as he had been the day before, calling him Moony again, still singing Christmas carols with great gusto, perfect pitch, and absolutely no attention to the lyrics.

_The wireless reception was always terrible in the Gryffindor common room, but that had never stopped Sirius. “Fleece navidad!” he boomed over the tinny voice of Jose Feliciano. ”Fleece navidad, prospero another fleece y bah.”_

_“I think it’s FELIZ, Sirius,” said Remus peevishly. He was behind on his study schedule; Sirius had distracted him all afternoon. “It’s feliz navidad, like, happy Christmas. Felicitations on Christmas.”_

_“Why would you congratulate someone on Christmas?” said Sirius. “No, it’s fleece navidad, because when the Baby Jesus was born, he needed some fleece from the shepherds to keep him warm! The sheep were only too happy to supply, hence, ‘another fleece y bah.’ Y means ‘and’ in Spanish, and, well, you know what sheep are like.”_

_“Sheep say bah, you mean?” Remus could never help himself, he was always getting sucked in._

_“Yes indeed Moony, the sheep says ‘bah.’ Your education is coming along nicely. Tomorrow we may cover the pig, or if you’re lucky, the dog. Which happens to be my area of expertise.”_

_“Pigs, you mean?”_

_Later that night, tipsy on Christmas cheer and butterbeer and Sirius, he had asked him. “What does the dog say, Sirius?”_

_“Shhh. Wait for tomorrow.” Sirius had whispered back sleepily through the dark. “The answer may surprise you.”_

“Moony!” Sirius stopped singing at once when he saw Remus entered the room. “Care to join us in some holiday pageantry?” Ron, Hermione, and Harry, and the Weasley twins were lolling on the sofa, barely able to keep their eyes open after a heavy pre-Christmas lunch. “C’mon, Fred, George, it’s your turn to provide the entertainment!”

Under cover of the twins’ unsurprisingly explosive display of Muggle magic tricks, Sirius nudged Remus. “I haven’t forgotten our plan.”

“I didn’t think _we_ had a plan, I thought _you_ had made a drunken declaration.”

“Yes, but as you know, my word is my bond. My drunken declarations are no exception.” This was patently untrue, but Remus continued.

“I don’t know. I know you don’t care about all the things I said yesterday, about the difficulty and the expense and everything. I know you can do, well, pretty much anything you want to. And I really, really appreciate that you want to do this. But…I don’t think Dumbledore would like it very much.”

Remus had to stop to pick a card, any card, from the deck that Fred had thrust under his nose. He turned back to Sirius, who suddenly looked quite miserable as he stared into the fire. There it was, Sirius’s new face. Instinctively, he moved closer, wishing he could take back what he had said, wishing he could stop disappointing him. But he knew he was right.

Sirius turned his gaze from the flames and looked up at Remus, startled to see him so close. “Hey, Moony,” he said softly. “Fleece navidad.”

~

Christmas, and the full moon, were rapidly approaching, and the next few days passed without further discussion of ‘their’ potion making plan. Determined to be a good host, Sirius spent his days organizing indoor snowball fights and annoying Molly in the kitchen until she begged Remus to step in. Evenings were usually spent playing charades or listening to the wireless until one by one the Weasleys filtered off to bed, leaving Sirius and his godson huddled together by the fire. Remus watched them with a painful pang of familiarity – Sirius catching Harry’s eye in the middle of an anecdote to make sure he was laughing, the competitive one-ups-manship with which they traded tales of midnight adventures under the invisibility cloak. Sirius looked much older than he should have at 36, but when he was laughing with Harry in the firelight they both could have been 19. It was as if Sirius had his best friend back – they were their own, self-contained, private universe.

It was a sight to warm anyone’s heart, and it should have warmed Remus’s, if only he could keep his old anxieties at bay. What version of history was Sirius telling Harry? It was right that Sirius should keep the focus on James, Harry’s father, Sirius’s best friend and chief co-conspirator on most of their misadventures. It was too mortifying to think of what Sirius might be telling Harry about Remus – things that had happened at the full moon, that Remus couldn’t even remember? Or things that had happened the other 25 days of the month? Still, Remus didn’t want to be completely erased from the narrative.

But Boxing Day was full moon, and Remus had to disappear.

“Go to hell.” Sirius’s voice was muffled. It was eight in the morning, but Sirius was not an early riser. At Hogwarts, he used to call it “delayed sleep phase syndrome” when Remus tried to convince him to go to breakfast early and spend the day studying with him in the library. Nowadays, he’d probably just admit to being perpetually hungover.

Ignoring Sirius’s slew of profanities, Remus let himself into Sirius’s room and looked around it for the first time in 15 years. “You still have these posters up, Sirius? They were gross when you were 21 and they’re even grosser now.” He gestured at the Playboy centerfolds pinned up around the walls. “Particularly since the last decade has seen quite a cultural revolution in, er, hair removal technologies.”

Sirius grunted from under his pillow. “Permanent sticking charm. I cannot unstick.”

Remus remembered the reason that he had come into the room in the first place. “I thought you might have been a bit too gone last night to remember that I was leaving, so I wanted to say, well, bye. And thanks. For Christmas.”

Sirius sat up in bed at that, blinking at the sun streaming in through the gap in his curtains as if it were the first time he’d ever seen light. “No, what? What’s happening? It’s like five in the morning, Moony!”

“I told you, it’s—”

“Full moon tonight. Listen, I’ve been thinking, and I think it’s actually probably best if you were to stay here.” Sirius was now completely awake.

“’You’ve been thinking’, like, in the last 30 seconds since I came into the room? Because you were asleep for a lot of that.”

“No, I’ve been thinking, in general. I think in general that it would be a good idea for you to do your full moons here. It’s something I’ve been thinking about.”

“It’s _something you’ve been_ —do I even have to tell you—this isn’t the Shrieking Shack! You know how my transformations are, and you have guests, you have half the Order here and Harry and—do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

“I do know how your transformations are, and I know no one in the Order seems to give a damn, but I do. I don’t care, I’ll kick them all out. Or I’ll fix it so they’re completely protected, I’ll set up a triple shield charm, I’ll brave my mother’s psychopathic dungeon-cellar and lock myself down there with you, I’ll do something. I can do it.”

Remus sighed. He should have left without saying goodbye. “It’s okay, Sirius. Go back to sleep.”

“No, I’m not asleep! I told you, I want to do this!”

“It’s really, really, _really_ not worth it.”

“No. You can’t do it alone! I want to help—”

“I really can.” Remus said. He had one foot out the door now.

“Don’t. Leave.” Sirius could barely get out the words through gritted teeth. Remus knew the effort it cost to say them – at one point, he would have given anything to hear them out loud.

“I’ll see you next year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short chapter today, thank you for the support x


	3. External Research Project

Sirius woke a few (well, several) hours later to his usual mid-afternoon pounding headache. Six months at Grimmauld Place couldn’t fully erase two years of life on the run: he still woke up each morning slightly disoriented, not quite sure where he was or what he should be afraid of. It wasn’t until his glance fell upon his bedroom door that he remembered Remus’s shabby grey cloak disappearing behind it that morning. Fuck.

Infuriatingly, Lupin’s absence seemed to go unnoticed by everyone else at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. How could they miss that there was no one there to pretend to be interested in Arthur’s incoherent explanations of how microwaves differed from “x-waves”? That no one was there to laugh the hardest at Fred and George’s jokes, or to defend them when Molly started in on them about not taking their N.E.W.T.s seriously enough? It was Hermione who asked him the next day, where “Professor Lupin” had gone.

“How should I know?” Sirius retorted. They’d just finished an unbearable “family” dinner, and he was already a few drinks in. “I expect your _professor_ had some essential Order business to attend to.”

Hermione looked rather hurt, but her response was drowned out by more screaming from that horrible portrait. Tonks had fallen over on her way out of the house, trying to put on her boots while standing in the dark. Sirius felt another flash of annoyance – that would never have happened if Lupin had been there to light the candles in the entrance hallway as usual when the sun went down.

He glared directly into his mother’s crackled canvas eyes before jerking the curtains closed. As a kid, he’d always been terrified to look his mother in the face, knowing that a split-second of eye contact was all that she would need to know that he was lying or keeping something from her. Once, she’d used the trick to figure out that he’d spent the afternoon playing with Eric, the Muggle boy from Number 11. The next day, Eric had been rushed to the hospital after riding his bike straight into a glass shop window. He’d learned to be careful about where he kept his gaze, at least until he could protect his mind from her assaults.

_“Come on, Sirius, I know you can do this. Close your mind. Don’t let me in.”_

_Sirius snickered. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”_

_Remus went red, looking around to make sure no one else had come into the dormitory. “If you want to joke around, go find someone else for Occlumency practice!” he hissed._

_Sirius grinned. “It’s just so hard to close my mind to you, y’know? You have a very penetrating gaze, I’ve always said that about you, Moony. You probably don’t even have to say ‘Legilimens,’ you’re that good.”_

_Remus always thought Sirius was having a go at him, which, to be fair, he usually was._

_“I’m serious! Try it!” said Sirius. “Look at me!”_

_Remus had barely caught Sirius’s eyes before the images hit him. He was on the Hogwarts Express, holding out a chocolate frog to a shy boy in hand-me-down robes. He was sprinting through the grounds, calling desperately after a figure who disappeared into the branches of the Whomping Willow. He was on his back in the Honeydukes cellar, looking up into hazel eyes. Black-and-white clips, seen through the eyes of a dog, of shining fur silhouetted against the dark trees. Technicolored blurs of his hands and his mouth and his body. One after another after another, they were all of…him._

_“How’d you do that?” Remus demanded._

_“I dunno. Instead of holding everything in, I just…pushed out.”_

Sirius shuddered. The Occlumency practice had worked, and he’d been able to keep memories like that hidden from the dementors, even hidden from himself. Or so he thought…being back here, stuck in this house, with Lupin popping in and out whenever he pleased, was doing strange things to his mind. After nearly twenty years as a soldier and a prisoner and a fugitive, he’d never felt so vulnerable as he did now. It was the second day of the full moon. Where was Remus right now? Who was he with? What would he be forced to see? The questions raced through his mind in an ever-tightening spiral. And at the center, he found his answer. In Azkaban, the certainty of his innocence had been his talisman, the one thought that the dementors could not take away from him. Now, it was another certainty. He _had_ to make that potion.

The next day, feeling slightly guilty about biting her head off last night, Sirius decided to help Hermione with the washing up after breakfast.

“Sorry about yesterday,” he said awkwardly.

“No, it’s fine,” said Hermione, even more awkwardly. “I didn’t mean…and after Mr. Weasley…it’s just that I’m worried about him too.”

“I’m not _worried_ about him –" Sirius said, his temper already rising again.

Hermine cut across him. “I looked outside last night, ok? I know it’s full moon, you’re not the only one who’s been keeping track—”

“I haven’t been _keeping track_ —”

“Ok, then, I’m the only one who’s been keeping track, and you’ve been slouching around the house in this delightful mood for a completely unrelated reason.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is my normal sunny disposition.”

Hermione heard the edge in Sirius's voice but couldn’t stop herself from ploughing forward.

“Do you think he’s in more danger now than he was before? People know he’s close to Dumbledore, right? Death Eaters, other werewolves? Can they recognize who he is when he’s transformed?”

“Can they _recognize_ _who he is_?”

She backpedaled. “Sorry, that came out wrong, I didn’t mean to imply—I don’t think that all werewolves look alike, or anything…” she trailed off.

Sirius couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the utter panic on Hermione’s face.

“I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

“Well, like you said, I have a lot to learn,” Hermione mumbled.

“Yes, you do,” Sirius said, an idea dawning upon him. “Actually – yes, you do! I’ll tell you what, Hermione. When you get back to school, I want you to go to the Hogwarts library and learn everything there is to know about werewolf transformations.”

“Why?” she said curiously.

“I’d have thought the pursuit of knowledge would have been reward enough, for Hermione Granger,” said Sirius, “Or have I misjudged you?”

“No, you haven’t, I was just wondering—”

“You’ve got a werewolf risking his life for us all every day. Dispelling your ignorance about whether or not you can _tell different werewolves apart_ is the very least you could do for him.”

“I see.” Hermione was clearly unconvinced. “That makes sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sirius admitted. “Listen, I have a plan to help your old _professor_ , but I need more information and believe it or not, my dear departed parents didn’t see fit to include a lot of werewolf ethnographies in their private library. Just – let me know what you find.”

“And if Umbridge intercepts my owls?”

“Tell her you’re doing an external research project on how best to isolate and eliminate undesirable members of wizarding society. You can address your letters to Emeritus Professor S. B. Boardman.”

Sirius knew that he would most likely have to wait a while for any word from Hermione. Over the Christmas break, she had badgered every member of the Order for their input on her color-coded O. W. L. study schedule, and Sirius had pretended to listen for long enough to know that she was likely spread too thin to spend much time on an “external research project.” (Remus, of course, had spent an hour helping her decide whether she should spend more time on Arithmancy or Ancient Runes based on her last two years’ worth of test results.) So Sirius was surprised when, two days into the Spring term, he received a reading list including each book’s publication date, page count, and a color-coded timeline of when Hermione would likely be able to provide notes in bulleted form. He supposed he shouldn’t have underestimated her.

“Remus, take a look at this – it’s every book in the Hogwarts library about werewolves!”

“How did you get this?” said Remus sharply. “Is this Hermione Granger’s handwriting?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, “I thought maybe she could help us with the Wolfsbane Project.”

“I can’t believe you’re dragging Hermione into this stupid idea – don’t you know that the Ministry can intercept all the correspondence coming in and out of Hogwarts?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, we came up with an alibi about a pureblood supremacist research project to give her some cover with your good friend Dolores.”

“But it’s not just _her_ you’re putting at risk, don’t you see that? It’s also you, me, the whole Order –”

“Relax, Moony,” said Sirius, “Frankie says relax, remember? Relax, let’s do it --”

Remus grinned despite himself. “Actually, I think you’ll find it’s relax, _don’t_ do it.”

But Sirius was distracted. “Hey, there’s something weird about this list – the Wolfsbane Potion wasn’t invented until after we left school, but there’s no books here that were published after 1980…”

“Well, of course not, the Hogwarts library hasn’t added a new book since 1852.”

“You mean I’m trying to make a potion and I can’t find even the most basic instructions at the most prestigious magical institution in Britain? What the hell kind of school is Dumbledore running?”

Remus took the list back from him. “If all you want are the instructions for Wolfsbane, why are you making Hermione look up all this deep background on werewolf transformation?”

“Well, I have to make sure it’s _safe_ , Remus, what kind of maniac do you think I am?” said Sirius impatiently. “What would I do if you were stuck as a wolf forever and it was all my fault?”

Remus thought for a second. “I keep my right mind, in a wolf body, you mean?”

“Oh, is that what it feels like with the potion?”

“Pretty much. I felt a bit more wolfish, maybe, like I wasn’t exactly thinking up lesson plans, but I was still pretty much me.”

“Not that different from us, I suppose,” said Sirius. “I always feel a bit more doggish when I’m Padfoot.”

Remus smiled at the mention of “us.” Sirius was a member of a royal “we,” and he always would be – death and betrayal bedamned.

“I mean, with the way things are going, it might be better to not be the Werewolf Remus Lupin, just be an anonymous wolf for the rest of my life.”

“I’ve already told Hermione off about that, you wouldn’t just be an _anonymous wolf_ , I could pick you out of a pack of thousands!” said Sirius indignantly. “But yeah, it’d be nice to not be Notorious Mass Murderer Sirius Black, too.”

Remus snorted. “Got me there, your prefix is better than mine.”

“Really? I wonder if ‘notorious mass murderer’ trumps ‘werewolf,’ in Umbridge’s book.”

“Probably it’s just one notch above. Or below. Depending on which way you think about it.”

“So you’d really be a wolf forever to get away from that?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I mean…obviously not. It’s not like I don’t have that option.”

“So why do you stay?”

“I don’t know…Dumbledore. The Order. Harry. You.” _Take your pick_ , Sirius thought. “Bipedal locomotion.”

Sirius was annoyed, but Remus smiled again. Padfoot needed his pack.

“So you’re saying that even if you _did_ somehow condemn me to a life trapped in a wolf’s body, I’d be pretty much on my own?”

“Don’t be silly, Moony, I wouldn’t just leave you out in the woods,” said Sirius bracingly. “You could share Buckbeak’s room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Would love any feedback as I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't even know how to make a dash consistently, which is unfortunate because my dialogue is all dashes. What can I say, boys interrupt.
> 
> Will try to write more consistently now and update more quickly, just had more life things than usual these past two weeks. And hopefully now that both our boys are back in town Sirius will cheer up a bit.
> 
> XOXO, P.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is basically the first thing I've ever written in my life, so I appreciate any feedback/comments. I may be slow but I hope to update every week or so!
> 
> XOXO,
> 
> P. H. H.


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